


The Elusive Miss Coulston

by TrivialPursuit



Category: State of Play (TV), Trainspotting (1996)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Series, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 08:05:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrivialPursuit/pseuds/TrivialPursuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dianne and Della are the same person, everyone's running from something, and Francis Begbie can still fuck up absolutely everything even from 534 km away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Elusive Miss Coulston

**Author's Note:**

> I am not from Leith. I am not even from the same continent. I don't mean to offend people from Leith/Edinburgh/Scotland/whoever else I could possibly offend. I'm mostly taking how I think Della/Dianne would see Scotland from the other Trainspotting character's feelings.  
> I'm working off movie-only canon. Porno didn't happen in this story.

She tells Stuart she's from Glasgow because she still can't bear to tell people she's from Edinburgh, because if they're from Edinburgh, like Stuart is, they'll invariably ask her which part, and call it shame, call it cowardice, call it escaping censure, call it whatever the fuck you want, but she can't bear the looks when she says 'Leith' because that's like being from London and saying 'Poplar'. And it's not even technically a lie; after Mark moved to London her parents shipped her off to her aunt's in Glasgow for the remainder of secondary school and uni.

Della got out of that life; she got out of skag and sex and porn, she got out of Leith and nobody's going to drag her back there. Nobody.

But she can feel herself slipping back into that headspace, can feel it when Bell looks at her police file from back when she was Dianne and says 'Francis Begbie?'

Because if anyone's going to come and rip this life that she's carefully built for herself brick by brick to shreds its going to be Francis fucking Begbie. Begbie's the type of guy every copper from London to Hegg has heard of because someone's mate or brother-in-law or guv'nor or something got bottled or beaten up.

But she's still not sure what to say so she says nothing at all.

Later, when they're driving back to _The Herald_ 's offices Cal says 'Francis Begbie?' because no matter what shit he pulls, short of actually killing someone, Begbie's still not famous enough for many reporters south of the border to know who he is. Della pretends not to hear him because Francis Begbie isn't part of her fresh start.

When Stuart gets shot all Della can think about is how much Mark would have liked Stuart.

But, despite the complete and utter shitstorm that Cal is raising around Stephen Collins, he still has time to ask every bloody person on staff exactly who Francis Begbie is while dropping her name into the conversation each time. Mostly people don't know, but a few raise eyebrows and tell Cal to stop stirring up his co-worker's shit. Eventually Cal forgets about it as he gets more and more wrapped up in the Collins family. Eventually, as the whole affair comes to a head, even Della forgets about it, instead focusing on what is probably the Watergate to the team's Woodward and Bernstein.

It is Dan, kept on by his father after Cal spirals out of control, who brings it up next, almost a year after the Collins Affair.

'Francis Begbie did five years in a Scottish prison for beating a man with a bottle.' They're sitting in a car waiting for a gunrunner to walk out of a warehouse with an aide to the Minister of Defence. It makes her gut twist cruelly when the words come from his mouth because, no matter what, she doesn't want Dan of all people thinking she's a criminal or a skag whore.

'Okay.'

'He's out now.'

'I know.'

'Who told you? The man himself?'

'Hardly, I barely knew him.'

'Then why's his name on your police record.' At her confused look; 'Cal told me.'

'I barely knew him at the wrong time.'

'So who told you?'

'Leave it alone Dan. Let the dead have their peace.' His face twists oddly, surprised by her words, or perhaps taking them literally rather then metaphorically as she had intended.

'Who's dead?'

'Dianne.' The words pop out against her will, escaping her lips like Evil escaped Pandora's Box.

'Who's Dianne?' Impulsively, Della leans forward and kisses him, the bit of gold on his finger be damned, and to her surprise, he kisses her back.

'No one.'


End file.
